Chalet Girls

by Lorraine Wilson

  ‘I’m glad to hear that.’ Seb puts a hand on my knee. ‘Now we’ve dealt with why, how about why me?’

  ‘Let’s just say you were kind of irresistible.’ My cheeks heat up.

  He grins. ‘And now we get to find out what you like. I can catch you up on all you’ve been missing, if you want to.’

  ‘I definitely want to.’ The words escape me like a sigh. He still wants me. Relief courses through me, releasing a weight I hadn’t realised I was carrying.

  Seb runs a hand up my thigh, his large fingers spanning my thighs and dancing with unexpected grace between my legs. Even through the denim of my jeans I’m super-sensitive, my body embarrassingly responsive.

  I exhale slowly, trying to keep my cool. I just wish I knew what a normal response should be on the date after sex.

  Things have changed between us. I feel a deeper pull, a belonging of sorts, but can’t tell if that’s real or just my social conditioning. They taught us in the youth group that if you had sex you were basically married. After all, in the Old Testament you were joined by sex, that’s what they told us. But a modern application of that never made sense to me, after all what if only one of you was a virgin?

  I need to stop thinking like this. I’ve been away from the critical kirk culture for a few years now. I learnt to think for myself. I haven’t thrown away my heritage, I just dared to question a few things. For a religion supposedly based on love I’ve never understood why I saw so little love growing up.

  Aargh, and now I’ve really stressed myself out.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Seb pulls me closer and lifts me onto his lap. He strokes my cheek.

  ‘I’m okay, I just feel like …’ I take a deep breath and decide to stop second- guessing what I should be feeling and tell the truth. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing.’

  ‘That’s okay, I can show you, a lot of it is instinct but some of it is simply working out what turns you on.’ He strokes my denim-clad thigh. ‘So, what do you like that we’ve already done?’

  ‘I liked it when you put your fingers inside me,’ I answer, feeling a little shy, but not as awkward as I expected, talking about sex with Seb. Now I’ve told him my secret, most of my fear has been dispelled.

  Silently he undoes the button and zip at my waistband and pulls my jeans down. I help him by wriggling out of them. Then he positions me so I’m leaning back against his chest and both my legs are hooked over his thighs, stretching me wide. Breath hitches in my chest as he runs his fingers over the top of my knickers. I lean back to allow him better access. I gasp when he pulls my knickers aside and thrusts two fingers inside me.

  ‘Do you like this?’ His thumb traces circles on my clit while his fingers massage me inside, making me writhe on his lap. ‘That’s better, you’re nice and wet for me now. Can you feel what you’re doing to me?’

  I rub my bottom over his growing erection. ‘You mean that?’

  I smile when he groans, taking pleasure from the knowledge I have some power in this relationship, that it’s not all one-sided.

  He pulls my knickers down and spins me round so I’m straddling him. He spreads the wetness from his fingers onto my top lip. He then licks it off.

  I didn’t even know that was a thing. I’m surprised to find it turns me on, to know he likes the taste of me.

  ‘You taste delicious. Je veux te lécher des hanches jusqu’aux pieds.’ He grins, a wicked gleam in his darkening eyes.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘Something very naughty.’ Seb grins, then whispers in my ear. ‘I want to lick you from your hips to your toes.’

  A fierce jolt of sexual electricity shakes me.

  ‘Say something else in French.’ I grind against him, desperately seeking release. That he is still in his jeans and I’m naked from the waist down makes me feel exposed, but I find I like it.

  It looks like my time with Seb is going to be very educational indeed.

  ‘Ta voix sexy me fait bander comme un porc.’ Seb grins. ‘That means your sexy voice gives me a hard-on.’

  ‘Sexy?’ I push against his erection, pleased to feel a pulse in response.

  ‘Very.’ He cups my bottom and squeezes, getting his revenge.

  We‘re both breathing hard now. I might even be panting, but I‘m too far gone to care. I think Seb‘s as turned on as I am as we both strip off the rest of our clothes with indecent haste. I fumble with the buttons on his shirt, my hands shaking a little.

  I‘ve no room for thoughts about Seb‘s suitability, only the insistent urge consuming me. I have to have him inside me. It‘s an imperative. Somehow it feels like the most important thing I should be doing, which sounds crazy, I know.

  Crazy or not, it‘s happening. Now. I need him. I run my hands over his muscular chest, trying not to think about how he got the jagged scars.

  I‘m not sure how it got there, but my bra is lying on the floor and Seb‘s lips are on my breasts, sucking and teasing my nipples. Then he presses me back down onto the sofa and trails kisses down my stomach to between my legs. Now he‘s sucking my sensitive clit, his tongue lapping and tasting me. I come almost instantly in a burst of fiery sparks, jerking against his lips, my body quivering with the intensity.

  ‘Can I do the same for you?’ I ask, once I‘ve stopped shaking. I can feel Seb‘s rock-hard erection pressing against my thigh. ‘I‘ve never done it before, so I might get it wrong, but I‘d like to try.’

  ‘That would be wonderful,’ Seb exhales loudly. ‘You can‘t really get it wrong. Just don‘t use your teeth.’

  I take Seb‘s erection in my mouth, licking and exploring, instinct taking over. I then brush my tongue over the hard tip, tasting the drop of salty liquid and then moving my mouth up and down, taking him deeper in.

  I like the intimacy of it. I love how powerful it makes me feel, seeing Seb‘s face contort in pleasure and knowing I‘m the one who’s making that happen. I look up and our eyes meet, intimacy deepening and connection forging.

  ‘I … thought … you said … you hadn‘t done this before.’ Seb‘s breathing is ragged.

  I pull away and crawl up beside him. ‘I want you inside me.’

  Seb retrieves a condom and shows me how to sheathe him. Then he guides me on top of him.

  I straddle him and let him position me, lowering myself down until the tip of his erection breaches me. I‘m wet and ready for him, so I sit down hard, hungry for friction, for the sensation of him moving inside me. Seb groans and I move instinctively, my body guiding me as I rock back and forth, a delicious throbbing warmth building inside me. I rest my hands on his chest and lean forward so my nipples graze his chest.

  ‘Merde. Fuck that‘s good, Lucy Lu,’ Seb groans again.

  I pick up the pace as he grabs my hips and then my buttocks, urging me to move faster. Ah, so that‘s why they call it ‘riding’. It makes sense now. Suddenly I begin to spasm, my body shuddering with the onslaught of another orgasm. I contract around Seb, squeezing him hard. He jerks inside me, face contorted as he comes.

  ‘Fuck me, Lucy Lu, you‘re a natural,’ he gasps, and we lie panting, me collapsed on top of him. ‘Did you like that?’

  ‘Yes, I liked it very much.’ I can‘t stop smiling. I rest my cheek against his chest, my body still tingling. I had no idea orgasms could be like that. My own attempts never had anything like that result.

  ‘Good. I look forward to continuing your education,’ Seb laughs and lightly trails his fingers down my bare back, tickling me.

  ‘Me too,’ I agree and find a ticklish spot under his ribs to exact my revenge.

  ‘Good afternoon?’ Tash looks up from her magazine.

  ‘Bloody fantastic,’ I beam.

  Tash raises her eyebrows.

  ‘You swore! For you to swear it must‘ve been good. It was months before you stopped flinching every time I said fuck, the first season we worked together.’ She stares at me, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. Being with Nate is definitely changing her, she
never used to show this much interest in other people.

  ‘I told you, my parents are very religious. My mother would kill me if she heard me swear.’ I shrug, some of the shine has gone out of my mood just thinking about home and how much of a disappointment I am to Mum. She‘d be horrified if she knew what I‘d been up to this afternoon.

  ‘Did they beat you or something? You know, the more you tell me about it, the more your set-up at home is sounding like a cult.’

  ‘It‘s not a cult, Tash, just Scottish Presbyterianism, the Highlands’ version. My parents are very active in the church, and my grandfather was a minister.’ I shrug. ‘They didn‘t beat me for swearing, but my mum would make me clean the range cooker, sometimes the toilets too. She said I was lucky, because her mother used to wash her mouth out with soap if she didn‘t like her language.’

  It wasn‘t really the punishment I minded but the look of irritated contempt on Mum‘s face. I was always disappointing her, it seemed. She was far harder on me than my brothers. They could rarely do any wrong, but I was always accountable to a higher standard, for some reason.

  ‘Range cooker?’ Tash frowns. ‘Just what century are you from, Lucy?’

  ‘The same one as you, Tash. It gets very cold in the Highlands, and lots of people have range cookers that help heat the house as well as cooking the food.’

  ‘Hmm, it sounds a bit like the Amish. I saw a film about them. Did you have to wear a headscarf? Were you allowed to use a computer or watch TV?’

  ‘My family aren‘t Amish, Tash, and they‘re not backward,’ I pause. ‘Although we were never allowed to watch television on a Sunday.’

  ‘Well, if you say so. No wonder you don‘t go back home much.’ Tash stares at me.

  I daren‘t say there‘s a danger Mum would lock me in the barn and refuse to let me leave again, after having read what supposedly goes on in a ski resort. Although, after what I‘ve been up to with Seb … well, I don‘t think she‘d ever look me in the eye again.

  ‘Anyway, you‘re getting me off the point.’ Tash narrows her eyes. ‘How‘s it going with Sebastien, then?’

  ‘Good, I think he wants a relationship.’

  ‘That‘s great. Just be careful, okay?’ Tash‘s forehead creases with concern. ‘You‘re so green I feel like I need to protect you. If I had a pound for every time a man made me a false promise or lied to me, let‘s just say I‘d be as rich as Nate.’

  ‘I don‘t know, I think Seb‘s being straight with me.’ I bite my lip. Am I being too naive?

  ‘Just promise you‘ll be careful, okay?’

  I nod. Things have been moving really fast. He‘s not the kind of man I imagined finally doing the deed with. He‘s got a daughter, for a start, not that it puts me off him, but I can just imagine what Mum would say – that in God‘s eyes Seb is still married to Estelle‘s mother and I‘m helping him commit adultery. That I‘m probably going to Hell.

  Why do I still care what she thinks? I don‘t believe it any more, so why is it still so powerful and hard to shake off? I thought I‘d given up caring what they thought of me. That I‘d grown out of my desire to please my parents. I guess it‘s not that easy. They might be hundreds of miles away but their influence and a childish longing for their approval is harder to leave behind.

  Tash goes back to her magazine and I head off for a shower. I can‘t help thinking about how judgemental I‘ve been, waiting for my future partner to be perfect. Tash is right, no one is perfect.

  Have I been just as guilty of the rigid thinking I left home to get away from? Maybe Tash isn‘t the only chalet girl to come to Verbier needing sharp edges smoothed away.

  Chapter 12

  From: eva.johnson@gmail.com

  To: beth.chapman@yahoo.com

  Subject: News

  Hello Beth,

  I hope you‘re okay? The photos you emailed me are gorgeous. Living and working in such a beautiful place must be a real blessing.

  Darling, I‘ve got some news. I‘ve been debating whether or not to tell you this, but decided on balance that you‘d want to know. I think I‘d want to know in your position.

  Okay, here goes – two more victims have come forward and Michael Robson has been charged with two counts of rape. At least we know that if they had enough evidence to charge him there’s more chance of a successful prosecution this time. Fingers crossed.

  I know this will stir up some incredibly painful memories for you. Please Skype me to talk about this or at the very least talk to someone you trust in Verbier. You mustn’t bottle up your feelings again, we both know how unhealthy that can be for you.

  I wish you weren‘t so far away. I want to give you a big hug right now.

  Lots of love,

  Eva

  BETH

  When I read the email bile rises in my throat. I‘m hot, so hot I can‘t breathe. The room blurs before my eyes. I click my phone into standby and slide it back into my pocket.

  ‘I have to go. Please can you cover for me?’ I turn away from the unstacked plates next to the dishwasher to face Rebecca. ‘I’ll do the same for you when you need me to, I promise.’

  I try to take a deep breath in and can‘t. Panic courses through me, stress flooding my body and constricting my chest.

  ‘No problem. Are you okay, Beth?’ Rebecca’s tone is hesitant.

  ‘I’m fine.’ I force a smile to my lips and probably look completely nuts. And why not? Crazy mother, crazy daughter. ‘I’ve just got a bad headache coming on and really need some fresh air.’

  ‘Okay, well I hope you feel better soon.’ Rebecca takes my place at the dishwasher.

  I turn and walk swiftly out of the chalet before she can ask me anything else. I dismiss the pinpricks of guilt as pain throbs at my temples. I really do have a headache coming on. After a few minutes I realise two things.

  One – I’ve forgotten my jacket. Not necessarily disastrous as it’s sunny. Hopefully it’ll stay that way and I won‘t freeze. Although today I‘m not sure I care all that much.

  Two – I’m halfway to Dan’s campervan, hoping he‘ll be in.

  I hesitate. Is he really the right person to go to?

  Yes. My inner voice is emphatic. I need to get to Dan. If I can get to Dan I‘ll be okay. By the time I‘m knocking at the van door I can barely feel my fingers. It must be colder than I realised.

  A new panic assails me. What if he’s not in? He has to be. Otherwise I don’t know where to go.

  When Dan opens the door, a welcoming, easy smile on his face, palpable relief courses through me.

  ‘Hi, Beth, do you want to come in?’ Dan‘s wearing salopettes and a long sleeved t-shirt that skims his muscled torso. He doesn‘t seem surprised to see me, just pleased, but his reaction barely registers.

  I stamp the snow off my boots and scrape them on the steps before climbing up into the van. It‘s not just my hands that are numb now, all of me is.

  The numbness is protecting me from all the questions crowding in, bombarding me like ill-mannered paparazzi. Will they get him this time? Why wasn‘t he punished for raping me? Is it because I don‘t matter? What if he walks free and he does it again?

  The knowledge he‘s already done it again at least twice makes me want to throw up. The idea that he‘ll probably go free turns my heart to ice. What do you do when even the police and justice system fail to protect you?

  ‘What’s happened, Beth?’ Dan’s eyes take in my appearance and the relaxed smile vanishes from his face. He keeps hold of my hands. ‘You’re freezing. Where‘s your coat? Here, put this on and I’ll make some tea.’

  He hands me a thick navy hoodie and I slip it on, but there‘s a chill inside me I don’t think the van heater is capable of touching.

  ‘What happened? Has someone hurt you?’ He thrusts a mug of tea into my hands and I cradle it. ‘Sit down.’

  I slump down onto the day bed.

  ‘No, well yes … but not recently.’ I rub the mug handle with my thumb.

&n
bsp; The silence in the van grows heavy as Dan waits, patiently, for my answer. He sits down next to me, not touching me but protecting my personal space. Strangely I don‘t feel pressured to answer. Instead Dan‘s easy-going peace is permeating my frost, thawing me, along with the van heater.

  ‘I … was … attacked a few years back now.’ I take a deep breath. ‘It was rape.’

  I stare down at the tea, relieved to have got the word out, but unable to bear direct eye contact. Eva would be proud of me. It was months before I could say ‚raped‘ instead of ‚attacked‘ when talking about what happened. Dan is silent, calmly waiting, inviting more detail. He won’t get it. The words simply aren’t there. They are knotted up in a painful lump in my throat. I can only cope with this if I don’t feel, if I stay detached from the bald facts, as though they have nothing whatever to do with me.

  ‘I guessed.’

  Dan’s reply shocks me into looking up. I‘d expected a platitude or the standard ‚I‘m sorry‘ response.

  ‘You guessed?’ I eye him sharply, my hand gripping the mug handle so tightly my knuckles grow white.

  ‘Yes,’ he replies simply.

  ‘Oh.’ I try to relax my grip on the mug handle and bite my lower lip. Is it obvious to everyone, then? Do men look at me and see a potential victim?

  I‘ve often wondered if I looked especially vulnerable the day it happened. Bereavement had dulled my instincts and left me in a fog. With Mum‘s death the knowledge I was all alone, with no family to turn to, had overwhelmed me.

  ‘What happened today?’ He asks gently.

  I blink hard and then wordlessly I open up Eva‘s email on my phone and pass it to Dan to read.

  I watch his face as he reads it, but his expression remains inscrutable. When he’s finished reading he hands me back the phone. His silence infuriates me for a reason I can’t understand. The coldness in me is fragmenting, splintering into something much more dangerous and far more terrifying.